Dear Amane,
I feel dirty.
I know you're going to be furious with me when I tell you this, but…ever since the incident with the spirit dwelling within my mind, I've been cutting myself. With my razor. It hurt, but for some sick, twisted reason, I liked it.
I don't know why I keep doing it, but I have to stop. When I did it three days ago I'd forgotten to take my medication, and I was worried the bleeding would never stop. Still, you'd be surprised at how easy it is to hide the cuts.
The good news is I haven't been getting picked on anymore. The bad news is that it's because they heard what Kairita said about me. Even Joey and the others seem to be avoiding me these days.
How are things up there? I'm sorry if my letters bring the mood down. I hope you and Mother don't hate me after this.
I went to church today and got a strange look from the priest. Does he know everything that I've done? Does he know about him?
I hope he doesn't. I don't want anyone else to know.
After Mass was over, the priest asked me if anything was wrong. Me, of all people! Here's a little overview of our exchange. I don't want to bore you, but there is some relevance here.
Priest: My child, I feel that something is troubling you.
Me: No, Father. I'm fine.
Priest: My boy, you do not need to pretend all's well. I can tell from the lost expression in your eyes.
Me: Father…I'm fine. I just don't feel well.
Priest: My child…
I walked away after that. I don't need to hear the blatherings on of some senile old has-been.
Amane, why do I feel so angry? I want to lash out at the world, but I know the world doesn't deserve it. I know the priest was right when he said something was troubling me. It's just that I can't let him know. Nobody can know but you, Amane. You and God.
With my luck, after I die I'll have to pay for my darker personality's sins. Damn it, Amane! I can't live like this anymore. If you read these, why the bloody hell don't you ever give me an answer?
…I'm so sorry. I shouldn't be taking this out on you. you know I have a frightfully short temper. Unfortunately, I'm more like Father than I care to admit. Speaking of which, do you know what he's doing now? He never calls or writes to me anymore.
Love,
Ryou
\
